Chance (Dwarf Commoner Origin)
by Graymalkyn
Summary: One-shot story of Faren Brosca, describing his personal journey from Orzammar to Ostagar, and how his memories and his present shape him. (Stand-alone, but linked to "Last Of The Couslands - A Family Story")


**Chance ~ Faren Brosca**

Sereda's eyes traced Faren's brand. "How does it feel?" she asked.

"It's nothing special, really," Faren replied nervously. They had been travelling together for two days now, and he still wouldn't look at her in the eye. "I got it when I was very young. Most of us get them when we're born, but my dad wasn't always casteless. I can't remember if it hurt. I must have cried a great deal, though. My mama always said I was a weakling. But fire always hurts, I think, no matter how strong you are. I once got burned with hot coal, when I was trying to warm my cot. It left a nasty blister, it did, and then I couldn't use my hand to hold things for days and days. I remember that, and it hurt. I was a clumsy kid, all left feet and no thumbs. At least, that's what my sister always told me."

Sereda blinked. She wasn't used to listening to men ranting about trivial matters. Secretly, she was grateful that the Wardens had taken a brand who kept his distance, and not someone who would constantly remind her of her life as an Aeducan. "Ah," she said, nodding politely.

They were resting at one of the passages down the north end of Gherlen's Pass. Sleeping in caves was something that the Wardens appreciated, especially in such harsh climate, but they also knew that it would help the dwarves feel more at ease. However, the dwarves were not particularly interested in the inside of the cave. Wide awake, they tried to take in as much as they could, their eyes still adjusting to the light and their lungs to the air.

"Did yours hurt?" he asked, not quite expecting an answer.

"Mine's painted with henna," she replied, rubbing her forehead energetically. "The next time I properly wash my face, it will disappear."

"Ah," he nodded. Both silently looked ahead.

And so, the princess and the pariah stood together, equal under the Thedosian sky, brought together by chance.

* * *

Gilmer Kreena, of Merchant House Kreena, had never gained the approval of his family to formalize his union with Kalah Brosca, and so Faren's father had never married his mother. He hadn't been branded at birth because of his father's caste.

There had never been an ideal moment for Faren to be introduced to his father's family. When it finally seemed plausible, somebody in House Kreena had stepped on the wrong toes; thus, all the family was exiled. From that moment on, his father's family would be frowned upon, and would be considered even less than casteless.

And you really couldn't go any lower than that.

He'd offered to take Faren with him. Not his mother, and certainly not Rica – she wasn't his daughter. But Gilmer was rather fond of his son. Faren was a happy child, whose brown eyes always seemed to smile. He barely cried when he scraped his knees or elbows, and he rarely asked for anything. Rica adored her little brother, and she was more of a mother to him than his own mother.

Kalah's love for moss-wine had erased any traces of beauty or kindness that she could show towards her children. At an early age, Rica had taught Faren how to dodge the drunken blows that Kalah tried to deal every now and then, and Faren had a very distinct memory of being pressed against the wall, as his sister tried to shield him.

So when Gilmer had told his mother that he'd be taking Faren with him, Kalah had said no. He knew that it would be pointless to argue with her, or anybody else in Orzammar. The closer the _dwarva_ stayed to the Stone, the better – that was the only time when it didn't matter whether it was scum like the one living in Dust Town or the other castes.

Unless you stepped on really important toes, nobody left Orzammar.

* * *

_The Commons had been such a surprise for him. And above that level, the Diamond Quarter. All the children in Dust Town had told him that the walls glittered due to the amount of gold engraved in the passages. His friend Natia swore that her brother had told her that the rubies and sapphires on the walls were as big as her head. Faren was so eager to see everything that he'd slipped from Gilmer's grasp and had run towards the other side of the Commons. _

_"Faren! Come here, _ulak_!" He'd heard his father, but his excitement could hardly be contained. He felt an arm grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him back. _

_"Where do you think you're going, _grizul_," the guard spat. "Get back to your place!"_

_"He's just a child," Gilmer protested. The guard stared at his father._

_"Keep your child away from here. This area is banned for all but the nobles today."_

_And then Faren saw them. Marching as a unity, the nobles of Orzammar and a few humans, led by the King and his children. Faren hid behind his father's legs. There was a small crowd gathered near the passage leading to the Proving Grounds. Faren gaped at the sight of the Royal Guard, impeccable in their armors, and then the King appeared, close to where he was standing. Faren imagined that Paragons must have looked like him. The human king was impressive as well. All hair and fire. King Endrin was followed by his three children: the older prince seemed bored, but the younger one was hopping about, evidently excited. Faren's eyes locked on the princess, though. She was beautiful. Her long, blonde hair shone like gold, and her nose was the prettiest he'd ever seen. _

_He promised himself he'd marry a girl like her one day. _

* * *

"Eyes ahead, Faren," Duncan said. "Watch out for those loose rocks. You don't want to roll down again."

"Yes, sir," he replied, blushing slightly. He'd been thinking about the first time he'd seen Sereda before she showed up in the passage down the Deep Roads. He knew she'd told Duncan what had happened, but the Commander hadn't shared it with anyone. The only thing Faren had heard was, "We never use our family names. The Wardens will be your new family. As you said, Aeducan no more."

He was beginning to suspect that the problem was not whether you were casteless or not – the problem was whether you lived in Orzammar or the outer world. Here, the Wardens treated them equally. In the eyes of the Commander, he was a warrior, and he was just as honourable as she was. It was a feeling that warmed his heart, and almost made him forget the years he'd spent working for the Carta.

* * *

_He didn't like it, and Leske was always making fun of him, saying that he'd never get a woman unless he got a spine. He could mock all he wanted, but Faren wasn't going to disobey Beraht. It was the only way to keep him off Rica. Or _out _of her. He shuddered every time he remembered his mother looking away whenever 'uncle' Beraht closed the door to the small room, making use of Rica in exchange for a few coppers._

_One year. It had taken him one year to perfect his pickpocketing skills. And when he showed this to Beraht, he told him that he would be at his service on condition that he stopped lying with Rica. Beraht had agreed. _

_That's when he'd learned that he _had _to be worth something. _

* * *

"It's not that I wanted to take part in it!" Faren defended himself.

"The Grounds are _sacred_, favoured by the _Ancestors_! Do you have any idea how your actions will affect the warrior houses?" Sereda was livid.

"But… But what about Gherlon?" Faren asked, hesitantly. "He was casteless, like me…"

"He gathered an army and won the throne!"

"We already have an army!"

"It's not _ours_, soft-head!"

"Will they ever stop bickering?" Logan asked Duncan with a sigh. "They're like children… Or husband and wife."

Duncan chuckled. "Let them be. At least now he's standing up for himself."

The dwarves continued arguing over honour and social standing, as if something like that was still relevant to their present state.

* * *

_He'd always obeyed Beraht, even if he didn't like the things he'd had to do. Like killing that poor merchant. The man hadn't stood a chance against him and Leske. It had been unfair. But it only occurred to him later that it had been unfair. He wasn't used to fairness._

_So basically, if he hadn't obeyed Beraht, he wouldn't have had the chance to fight for the Commander, to make him see that he was worth something. He'd put on quite a show, he was sure of it. The crowd had even cheered for him. _

_But they had chanted someone else's name. Nothing had been real, except for the fight that had come afterwards. He knew that struggling would be futile. But for the first time, he'd got a taste of what his life could be like. For the first time, he'd had the chance to show who he was, and to someone who would appreciate it._

_He'd turned into a flesh-and-blood spin, mace and dagger flying out wide. He turned so fast that he nearly stumbled as he charged against his captors. He hadn't killed anybody, but he'd managed to knock them down. _

_And then someone had dealt a dirty blow, and he'd come crashing down. _

_Not so honourable either, those warriors._

* * *

They'd reached the other side of the lake. Faren had never seen so much water together. He heard Sereda gasp. The clouds had parted, revealing how high the tower was. Faren felt dizzy and sat down.

"Are you all right?" he heard Sereda's voice coming from afar. He grunted and looked down. His eyes landed on the reflection of the tower. It was definitely easier to look down. But now there seemed to be even more sky.

"What is this place?" Sereda asked.

"This is Kinloch Hold," Duncan replied. "Home to the Circle of Magi."

"I'd heard of it, but I guess I was expecting something more… circular," Sereda frowned.

Duncan chuckled. "It is a peculiar construction, yes." He turned and looked at Faren. "You will feel better in a few days. Don't worry. You've been doing fine so far."

"Yes, that's what my sister told me, at least. _'You'll do fine, Faren.'_ I think she wouldn't have said that if she'd ever seen all this open space. Ancestors," he murmured, before getting sick.

* * *

_Jarvia had let him know that there would be no more days left for him._

_"Beraht's not happy, _grizak_," Jarvia said. "You've cost him dearly, and you'll pay for that." The woman had walked away, a dirty smirk on her face and a smug sway on her hips. Faren suspected that she did more with Beraht than Carta business. _

_So, why escape? Beraht wanted him dead. The nobles wanted him dead. There was no escape. Not even the slimmest chance. He was considering what to do when Leske slapped him. _

_"How did you get in?" _

_"Ancestors bless the picklocks," Leske smirked. _

_Killing the guard hadn't been difficult. Killing the others they'd encountered on their way to Beraht hadn't been hard either. But the question lingered there, in every throat they slashed, in every life they took. Former comrades. Dusters, just like them. _

_Beraht's death had been surprisingly easy. Faren thought that the great crime lord had spent so long depending on other people to watch his back that he'd forgotten what it was like to fight to survive. Leske was more excited than he was. Faren hoped he'd be able to reach Rica before any of the Carta thugs had the chance to put their hands on her. _

* * *

Duncan had ordered two of his men, Logan and Halbert, to continue to Ostagar without him or the other two Wardens. They would be staying at the Circle. Faren was sad to leave him behind. Duncan had showed him extraordinary kindness, and he was reminded of his father.

"Is that… an _Aeducan mace_?" Sereda asked three mornings later, when they were getting to the Fortress of Ostagar.

Faren blushed. Sereda's lips were shut tight. Faren noticed that both her lips and knuckles were starting to turn white. He swallowed hard. A tiny voice told him to give her the mace – the Wardens would probably give him some equipment…

He took the mace and showed it to her. "It… It belonged to an Aeducan, yes. Duncan gave it to me when he conscripted me."

Logan was watching them over his shoulder. He frowned. Sereda was wielding the mace as if she was getting ready to strike Faren. Why had Duncan thought he'd be a good nanny for those dwarves? He sighed. But then he saw Faren hold out his hand to get the mace back.

"_Any_ mace you get will be an Aeducan mace. This one's_ mine_," he said seriously. Logan smiled. He saw Sereda give back the mace.

"I'm not an Aeducan anymore, brand," she shrugged.

"Well, I'm not a brand anymore, Sereda," he replied. "Er... Except for the fact that I've got a brand on my face for life, yes… So I'm just a dwarf. With a brand."

"Right you are, Faren," Logan said relaxedly. "Brands and names don't define us after all; don't you agree, Sereda?"

Sereda looked at Faren, expecting to see a smirk. But all she saw was the dwarf's kind face, a glimmer of hope and goodwill in his eyes.

"I s'ppose," she replied evasively.

"We're going to be Wardens now," Faren said warmly. "Maybe we never dreamed of this. Maybe you had other plans. I had other plans too. Although most of them depended on how much longer I'd be allowed to live. But does that matter now? This is our chance to be something different, to make this world a better place."

Sereda and the Wardens gaped at Faren. He blushed.

"Er… That's what my sister told me, at least."

The others laughed.

...


End file.
